Time of Dying
by Kitty-Senpai
Summary: "How had they gotten the upper hand? How had this happened? No, not yet! I still have too much to live for! I can't die!" One-shot. Sorry if this sucks, I'm still new!


**Disclaimer: I own nothing! Ahahaha!**

The distant scrape of metal against metal gave him away first. The second was his hastened footsteps as he made his way to the all-famous Fullmetal Alchemist, standing out in the crowd of slow sound of ordinary citizens dragging through their daily routine. Not wanting any injuries, he silently slipped into a dark alley nearby, as cliché as he knew it was. For a second, he heard nothing out of the irregular occurrences. But, this new-found enemy was a novice. He could at least tell that much about him, even if he had no clear view of the anonymous hitman's face.

He started to turn and hop over the wall dead-ending the alley, assuming the noise was in his paranoid and cluttered mind, when a small pocket-knife raced past his face, cutting of a few hairs from his bangs, and lodged itself in the wall in front of him. Man, this guy really was a novice, a mere wannabe. Even still, he was in a battle, a life-or-death situation, as he was familiar with, and no one would take his life without a fight. He raised his arms, ready for the next attack.

Soon enough, it came. _'This guy must really need to get rid of me, and fast.'_ This made his job all the easier. All slip-ups on his part, on expert move on Ed's part.

Ed finally made out the man's features as he flipped out of the way of the stab of another knife. He was about 5 foot 8" with twig-like arms and legs. Just about the only thing this guy had on Ed, was his_** GODDAMN**_ height._ Always the height._ Ed was, by far the more experienced of the two, even though the man looked about in his late thirties. He had short stubble on his chin and bags under his eyes, as if he had gone a week too long without sleep. He couldn't quite make out the man's entire facial structure, because the assassin's cloak hood kept covering it with every move he made.

_Clang_! Ed rolled out of the way, just in time, as a swipe, aimed for his throat, hit a pipe instead._ This is ridiculous! I need to finish this before Al starts to worry about me being late!_ He heard the same clap that always rang out more so than maybe it should as he, upon impulse, transmuted his automail right arm into the blade that so often represented the ones he made on a daily basis.

He charged the man, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline when he was the attacker, when he was forced to stop mid-stride.

He had sensed the presence of a newcomer. But this was not why he was forced to stop. He stopped because of the murderous intention that radiated off this new character. If he was anyone else, it would have driven him insane. He could feel it, pressing in on him from all sides, threatening to suffocate him. He heard a gunshot and instinctively dove behind a trashcan that happened to be nearby.

The successor to the amateur was a better opponent, whether that be good or bad. After a while, though, all that followed was silence. Did this mysterious individual give up, declaring him a lost cause? He made the mistake of peeking out behind the trashcan, and as a bullet ricocheted of his automail, and he couldn't help but mentally thank Winry.

But he should have paid attention to the task at hand, because just as he started to relax, he jumped in surprise, letting out a short scream. The unnamed enemy had had the courage, or lacked the commonsense, to come face to face with the well-known alchemist. He was so startled; he would have never anticipated what was to happen next. But, even as he tried, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise and a sharp, piercing pain in his chest.

His scream of agony never came, though. He just sat there, motionless, with a look of utter surprise upon his face. The young alchemist, known for his combat skills, intelligence, and cocky attitude that helped him in any fight. That very boy had been shot. He slumped to the side, no longer tense. He finally had a clear view of his attacker's face, but the bullet wound was rapidly bleeding out, causing him to lose focus.

The last thought to go through his mind was the song he had heard before leaving for the library to meet Al. The song that reminded him to keep living, if only for the one person in particular he cared for a great deal. The song Time of Dying that reminded him to keep living for her. For Winry.

The last thing he heard before he felt all his strength, all the warmth leave him was the repeated snap of an old friend.


End file.
